The Ballad of Phil and Phyllis Punxsutawney
Context:
Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog of Groundhog Day, is given an elixir annually that makes him immortal and able to see the future of the seasons. He is believed to be over a century old and now, on his unknown numbered wife, lives with Phyllis the Groundhog, who is pregnant with twin woodchucks.
Context Context:
TikTok Music artist Oliver Richman created a set of short songs in a series of “writing a song per day” pertaining to that of Punxsutawney Phil and his groundhog wife (yes, she’s real), Phyllis.
After some time, he released a full version of the platform featuring Joy Woods. The song is incredibly well-written in all standards, and I get a viscerally cinematic, emotionally charged rollercoaster and thought-provoking experience just by listening to the music.
It’s fantastic, and I highly, HIGHLY suggest you give it a listen! (Titled: The Ballad of Phil and Phyllis – I will leave a link to the Spotify song) Anyways, all credit to Oliver, I just added some fluff and changed some stuff around and added my own little spin on the story and the narrative (This is not fully what happens in the song; however, I would listen to it first).
Finally, I wrote this in Google Docs and transferred it here, so I don't know how the formatting will hold up, but, tbh, way too lazy to fix it unless I need to.
Okay, that’s all. Enjoy! :)
SONG LINK: (https://open.spotify.com/album/0XwqP14mH8YDQp4XKBzKOb)
The night before Groundhog Day…
The brown brush of Phil’s scruff waved as the frigid air split through the burrow’s door. Phyllis, Phil’s Groundhog wife, appears as she enters the communal space of the hovelish Burrow. The twin baby chucklings asleep in their mother’s tummy, the big day ahead, and nothing in the world can calm the aggravated nerves of Punxsutawney Phil. The beautiful beading eyes of Phyllis meet the view of the disheveled and dissociated Groundhog. She reaches over, her soft mittens attempting to soothe Phil, but he speaks beneath his breath. His voice is muffled and dampened by his mumbled nature.
“What was that, Snugglehog? What did you say? What are you staring at? Why are you crying?” Phil’s eyes stared out into space, a tear rolling down his cheek. Wiping it away, he breaks concentration, his gaze meeting his damp paw pad and then meeting his beautiful wife in her pink groundhog cooking apron.
Phyllis’s voice is warm and tinged with that sense of freedom. Reaching out, her paws encircled his head, pulling it close to her fuzzy chest, smothering him, almost as if to block out the noise that disrupts his brain and taunts the fear that pursues him.
“You can have it…” Cries the whispered and hushed voice of Phil.
“What was that?” Phyllis asks once more, now removing Phil’s head to meet his eyes with hers; a stray tear coats the fur beneath his eyes, darkens the brown to black, plops against the sedimented floor as if to sprout the spring Phil is afraid to bring. His slit remain closed, his triangular nose twitching as his Groundhog lips quiver.
“You can have it all… I can’t take it anymore.” Phil’s voice chokes as he cries, fighting back the fear of his words.
“Don’t speak like that,” softly reprimands the voice of Phyllis, “You are Mr. February, the Weather Whisperer, the Punxsutawney Pride– you are the Seer of Spring himself! You cannot discount your work, your drive, my humble hog, you must believe in yourself! You must forgive the fear!” Her voice swirls around his round ears, unperked, flacid against the tides of fear that embrace him. Tighter and tighter it pulls, splitting the grasp of Phyllis’s love. How can one forgive when the fate of the future rests on their shoulders? “Most Groundhogs would give anything to be like you.” She says with passionate enchantment. “Punxsutawney Phil…” Phil pushes out, removes, his face crushed, his heart split– he barks with the hold of misery, and not truth.
“You can have the fame, Phyllis!”
“What?”
“I know the way you must think of it. ‘The Seer of Spring.’” The enraged Groundhog pushes off, trotting away, leaning against the wall as he speaks before turning to continue. “Well, it’s not all that! I know you want it – so, you can have it!”
“What are you talking about, Phil?!” Phyllis fights back, hurt from her lover’s attacks.
“You can have the fame, Phyllis! I’d give up all the fame.” Pacing around the kindled furniture of the common room. “You can have the overbearing stares, the noisy crowds, the holy shadow, and the shame, Phyllis!”
“Phil, why are you talking like this?! What has gotten into you?! Why are you acting like this is a curse?” The pregnant Groundhog growing in intensity. She stands slightly, but her stance falters as she loses her balance and returns to her seat – her legs bent upon each other, her eyes glistening with the tears that swell.
“Oh, Phyllis!” Phil shakes, his voice cracks, his emotion quakes; he knows not what he’s saying as he’s overcome with feral anguish. “Don’t pretend you want this; don’t be so naive! I’ve said these words again and again, but by then you’re bound to leave…” Huffing, Phil breathed to himself, his wife shocked at his words. “They always leave…” His wife watched quietly, her face shuddering, her heart torn.
“Then I guess that I’m just like the rest.” Standing, Phyllis as she began for the door, interrupting Phil’s metaphysical promenade.
“Why must you leave?” Whisper Phil, realizing the consequences of his
words. There was a palpable tension, a rippling that split the air and cut their marriage at its faults. What is Phil scared of, thought Phyllis; Why doesn’t she understand, thought Phil. Both could hear, neither would listen.
“Well…” Shuddered Phyllis under her breath, breaking the silence. “We can’t all live forever; I sure was never as blessed… Phil…” Spoke Phyllis, her throat aching as she called for his attention, “I know that the words you speak are not the ones you mean, but that does not mean those words will not hurt me. I am your wife, Phil. I’d expect someone like you to see that! Why can’t you see?” Phil’s heart was struck with confusion– no, shock. Not at his wife’s attacks, but at her truth. For the ‘immortal Seer’, he had been blind to see what was right in front of him, forever looking to the future to see the present.
“I’m going to bed, Phil. Good luck tomorrow. Try not to be afraid this time.” Flustered, the woodchuck stormed off into the back end of the burrow, leaving Phil all alone. Was it his fault? Was it anyone’s? Left alone, questioning, wondering, searching for the reason that could answer his question– or, more or less, resolve his problem. Was he searching for what was right, or was he searching for his right? He did not know; however, what he did know was that tomorrow, spring might come, or winter might stay. For now, he wished it would all go away. With one last whisper, he spoke,
“I just wish you’d hold me, Phyllis… Like an apricot.”
…
The next day
The Question of Spring or Winter.
“On this February second, Punxsutawney Phil, the seer of seers…” The same voice of the speaker droned on, just as it had every year before. Same speech, same tradition, same old response; however, the Seer did not foresee one thing– no shadow. There was no shadow for Phil to be afraid of, and because of that, the Groundhog returns to the jubilant state that he so faintly remembers every year.
A race to tell his wife, Phil rushes off from the hands of the announcer to see Phyllis, unknowing if she’s close in the crowd, but as he meets the edge of the stage, two women rush up to Phil.
“Phil, Phil!” Roared one of them, as they sprinted to his side. “It’s your wife, Phyllis. She went into labor right before you went out. Quickly, with us now, we’ll bring you to her!” Phil’s contradicting emotions fought against him. Should he be happy? Should he be scared? Frozen in place, he raced in his thoughts, fearful: he’s never had a child before.
“Phil!” The second one shouted, snapping him out of it, “She doesn’t have much longer! We must hurry!” These words wrapped a coil around the body of the Groundhog, pulling him as he pumped as hard as his little limbs could. Trotting, sprinting, galloping, gaining, with each step, Phil raced to the ground-hospital where he found his wife struggling. His children were out – his twins. They breathed the fresh air of the woodchuck. Their chirps and calls cried out; however, they were drowned by the frenzy of ground-doctors and machinery, blaring and screaming at them.
“What’s wrong??” Roared Phil, pushing a doctor from his sweating, fading wife. “Will she be okay?!”
“Someone get him out of here, dammit! Now!” Resisting, the team of nurses carried Phil from the roof, barring him from entering, from seeing his wife, his twins, his family. What felt like ages passed, not even the shadows of winter could scare Phil anymore – his wife, alone, dying, fighting, losing– what could he do without her? Does she even know he can’t?
Along with his mind racing, the immortal Phil wanders:
“Nothing’s supposed to live forever, Phyllis. Nothing is supposed to last that long. Our burrows, our history, will eventually fade, and I’ll be left to remain and remind. But, if nothing’s supposed to live forever, why am I the one who’s cursed to see? The sprout begins to spawn, till the things I love are gone, till everyone’s moved on but me…”
He remembers his words the night prior:
“I wish you’d hold me, Phyllis. Hold me like an apricot.”
His wishes always got away. His webbed groundhog feet pattering on the ground as his legs bounce, his head rattles:
“Hold me like the world is not about to wave goodbye…”
Bursting from the ER doors, a nurse calls out.
“Mister Punxsutawney, come quick! Your wife… She doesn’t have much time.”
Phil’s hands began to shake, tremors even, he stood, his chest crushed beneath the weight of the world as he ran through the halls towards his wife.
“I’ve watched your fur turn gray. Hold me like the world is not about to wave goodbye.”
His little body turned the corner, sliding on the tile as his hands gripped the wall and sent him forward.
“How many times have I had to say goodbye?! I don’t like goodbyes!”
The nurse leads him on, entering the room as he approaches the side of his wife, holding her paw in his. The monitors beep sporadically, and the doctors attempt all they can. With a tearful, weakened smile, Phyllis’s eyes grace Phil’s. He stutters, his scruff sniffling as he speaks:
“Please don’t say goodbye!”
He whimpers, his voice cracking as her grip begins to weaken. From beneath the oxygen mask, a small whisper escapes…
“good…
…
…
…
…bye…”
A flatline met the monitor as the nurse’s hand laid solace on Phil’s shoulder. Turning off the alarm, the doctors exited the room. Murmuring filled the air for a moment, but all sound lost its reason. All reason lost sense. All sense – lost…
His mouth sat partly open as exasperated breaths trickled in through shuddered inhales and sharp exhales. His eyes, so wide you’d think they could read the world with rivers flowing from the world’s edge.
“Goodbye?” Thought Phil, but no longer could he think – in his mind, just pure emptiness. A white void. A quiet void. A lonely void. His body stood spaceless on a plane of eternal purity. Now filled with sights, he stood on a calm surface of reflective water portraying a painted sky of blue, with dimples of clouds texturizing the sky—a bliss in the madness. Wanting to leave forever, his thoughts of immortal life seemed to escape him for a moment as the one mortal thing took wind behind him.
“Nothing’s supposed to live forever. Nothing’s supposed to last that long. That’s what they say, Phil, that it all goes away, Phil; but, something deep inside me knows they’re wrong.”
Phil stood frozen, unbelieving of the voice that met his scruffy ears. As he turned, a miracle stood before his sight. Phyllis, smiling, watching, speaking – she was here…
“If nothing’s supposed to live forever, I give you a part of me, I guarantee you’ll find in the winters and the springs, in the song your shadow sings – forever is the things I leave behind.”
As his melodious voice split the seams of tension that held Phil, a window in this realm of serenity opened before him. In his eyes, the cradles that had the two Punxsutawney pups – one clad in blue, the other in pink – a boy and a girl. His legacy, his love, his reminder of the one he’s lost and the two he gained.
“Behind?” Spoke the stunned Groundhog.
“You’ll see me in their smiles. Their claws, Phil, will make you take paws, and maybe those burrows we made will come back to your mind–”
Turning, Phil spoke frantically.
“No! The burrows we made will eventually fade, and I can’t convince the sun to let us rewind! Let us start over! Before you leave me behind!”
“Phil,” responded Phyllis, “they will come back, back when we weren’t afraid the sun would set and let us leave our last duet behind!”
Approaching his wife, Phil fell to his groundhog knees, begging, pleading with Phyllis to stay. Her hand, petting his shoulder, spoke as it began to fade through his body like a bubble. His eyes looked up in pain, his tears sparkling as they created infinite ripples in the surface beneath him.
“Phil, are the ones who go ever truly gone when you’re holding onto who you leave behind?”
“Who you leave behind?” Questioned Phil. Reaffirming, Phyllis repeats.
“Who you leave–”
“No! Hold me, Phyllis! Why can’t you stay forever?!”
Crouching down to meet his gaze, a tear falls from Phyllis’s warm eyes. Her elegance is graceful, her touch angelic, all soothing to the grieving groundhog.
“Dry your eyes, Phyllis.” Sniffled Phil, but once again, a tear fell as she smiled.
“I can see forever just by looking in your eyes.” Whispered Phyllis, “That’s the thing with love, it multiplies and multiples– Phil, nothing’s supposed to live forever.”
“Nothing’s supposed to live forever-” Echoing Phyllis, Phil repeats her statement, coping, and she coaches him through his pain. “But, the tighter you hold me, the deeper you look in my eyes, the more that can’t be true! And that sprout begins to spawn, in the winters and the springs, and the things you know are gone, and in the song my shadow sings– till everyone moves on but us two.”
Raising to his knees from all fours, Phil’s eyes fully level with his wife’s, their hands interlocked, smiles gracing their faces as they both finally understand all they are truly losing – and what’s never truly left. Phil cries out.
“Cause-” cutting him off, Phyllis continues.
“Nothing’s supposed to live forever.”
As the words leave her groundhog lips, they meet Phil’s. His mind is eased, the pain that tore his heart in two repairs the seams that faltered beneath the loss of his wife. A tear rolls down his cheek as the warmth he feels begins to dissipate, and as he opens his eyes, Phyllis and the world of serenity start to fade as he returns to his mind. His small paws reach for the remaining essence as the hospital light prods at his corneas.
“How can I live forever,” silently cried Phil, his paws holding tightly in his wife’s, “without you?”
Alone, as Phil grieves, the door opens, and the doctor speaks to the groundhog, announcing to him the location of his children. As he follows close behind, Phil replays the last moments with his wife in his mind. He feels guilty, weighed down by the pain of the argument the night before, not understanding that his curse was truly much, much more.
As he appears before his children, the doctor hands him a note from his wife – one she had written before entering the hospital that morning. His paw shakes as he splits the seal, afraid, terrified even, but against his fears, he reads:
“Phil,
A blessing hides within your curse; however, it has made you blind beyond your better judgment. I cannot empathize with your grief, my love; I will never know what it’s like to feel the weight of the world, the weight of immortality etched upon my brow and spoken to all, although I can sympathize. I understand the pain of holding all that is laden upon you, unable to rid yourself of the fears that hold you back – our children, Phil.
I feel as if I carry OUR world inside, holding the burden that is to fear the health of our prosperity and the balance of MY prosperity… Our two chucklings will be greater than I will ever know, because… I won’t…
I can feel it, Phil. I know that these two will be the end of me. I cannot tell you, I cannot steal your shadow from you tomorrow, though sometimes I feel like I was the shadow itself.
What are you afraid of, Phil?
Sometimes it felt as though the sight of me created a recluse – hidden from the world, hidden from me. You could see through me, your gift, maybe, your sight, probably, but never your love, never your mind. I don’t know what you think, I barely understand what you say, but I know, inside that chubby little head of yours, there’s more than you claim. I strived to be your future, but now I know, we must create those ourselves.
You’ll never see my transparency through my eyes, but I know the years to come will help you fill in the missing piece and will complete your vision for us all. I leave you all I have left, Phil, and know that, when there is none left, you’ll always have us left for you. I love you, my darling woodchuck.
Yours, forever
Phyllis Punxsutawney.
As his paws clasped the letter, a tear rolled down his cheek. His focus on the window shifted from his children to himself, his gaze staring hard and intently…
“What was that, Snugglehog? What did you say? What are you staring at? Why are you crying?” Phil’s fixed stare shifted slightly, his damp paw pad striking the tear from his eye. As his gaze fixed upwards, his view met his beautiful wife in her pink groundhog cooking apron…
Reaching out, her paws encircled his head, pulling it close to her fuzzy chest, smothering him, almost as if to block out the noise that disrupts his brain and taunts the fear that pursues him.
“You can have it…” Phil spoke through chattering teeth as a guttural cry followed close behind.
“What was that?” Phyllis asks once more…
